Maple and McDonald's
by RainbowTanuki
Summary: A collection of America/Canada one-shots. USCan. ratings range from K to M.
1. Tell Them

_So this is the beginning of my collection of America/Canada oneshots. This will probably be updated every week or so. I'll be taking requests too, as along as it involves the sexy North American bros~ Enjoy!_

_-_Tanuki

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**Tell Them **(rated T)

Several kisses were exchanged between them when a slightly chapped mouth met soft warm lips, and continued as a large hand found wavy blond locks, gently tugging to deepen the already passionate kissing. A faint moan was heard, and a pair of arms wrapped themselves around a strong neck to show their approval. Encouraged, lips began to nip and suck all the flesh that it could reach until the wretched collar of a shirt obscured its trail.

"Mhn..Alfred." Said American broke away to cup the soft, lovely pale cheek of his brother, showering affectionate kisses upon his lips and forehead. Both their glasses lay abandoned on the nightstand that sat right beside the bed.

"Al-" Matthew was cut off by his brother's mouth upon his own again; this time, the kiss was chaste and light, though it left him breathless. They only parted for brief seconds to recapture a gulp of air, then more gentle kisses were rained upon Matthew's face and neck. The Canadian boy sighed, eyelashes fluttering closed, and laced his fingers into Alfred's choppy sandy blond hair.

Sometimes, they wished they hadn't fallen in love like this; a love so forbidden, a life so unkind to the both of them.

"Please, Alfred," Matthew gasped suddenly when his brother's cold, ungloved hand slid across his bare stomach, trailing upwards. "Please. They have to know." At this, Alfred frowned, and Matthew felt his hand physically tense against his trembling stomach. The Canadian whined when his shirt was yanked up, gathered up to reveal his chest fully. Flinching, he bit his lip stubbornly as Alfred began to kiss and nip his body, leaving a thin trail of saliva across his now perked nipples.

"Alfred! A-Al..Please, this is serious! Th-they'll..Oh, god.." Matthew begged, trying to blink away the moist gathering of what felt like tears that were blinding his vision. He moaned and pulled desperately at his brother's hair, trying to squirm away. He wanted this, but wanted Alfred to listen to him, also. If just once, he had to tell his brother what he needed to hear, not want he wanted to hear like he was so used to.

Matthew wasn't the weaker twin, though. Not by any means. He and Alfred were basically the same, and they were one: North America. There was nothing that they didn't know about the other. Years of separation had taught them absorb each other's company like sponge to water. They loved each other, couldn't live without the other, for without one of them, there simply couldn't a North America.

That's why the world had to know of their relationship, lest they be separated again.

Matthew was afraid, but would rather die than have Alfred leave him.

Alfred was resentful of anyone who wanted to break them apart; truthfully, the only person he ever cared deeply enough for was his younger brother, Matthew.

"Please!" Matthew continued, close to tears, "They'll..We can't. Stop, Al! They'll-"

"They'll what!" Alfred finally snapped, grabbing hold of his brother's thinner wrists and yanked them to the side away from Matthew's face. "What could Arthur and Francis possibly do that you're so afraid of?" Despite being on the verge of sobbing, Matthew growled, wishing to slap Alfred across his godforsaken face. Anger began to surface between them, which was usually _very _rare.

"They'll _separate us_, you idiot! They'll never let us live like this! My God, don't you see Alfred?!" A single tear streaked down the weeping Canadian's left cheek, and Alfred's expression softened as he bend down and softly wiped the tear away, caressing the skin as he did so. Then, he suddenly pulled Matthew into a tight embrace, feeling like he could cry himself.

"They'll separate us again, Al! I-I can't live like that! I n-need you! Don't you g-get it?" The younger of the brother wailed, clutching the back of Alfred's plain muscle shirt tightly. Alfred caressed his brother's back, tracing faint circles as he rested his chin upon Matthew's head.

"I know, Matt, I know.." He pressed a kiss to the side of Matthew's face tenderly, whispering more soft nothings to comfort his upset brother. "We'll figure something out. I promise." There was a calming silence –the rain pattering softly against the window- until Matthew finally spoke again.

"We can't avoid them forever. They're our family. They have to know."

There was a pause on the American's part, and Matthew tried to speak up again before his chin was titled and a chaste kiss was placed tenderly upon his lips.

"I know."

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Random note: Canada hasn't lost his virginity in this one yet~

**Review if you like~**


	2. Snacks

America sighed dramatically with a smile as he flopped down next to his brother on the couch, somehow managing to avoid spilling his oversized mug of soda and bowl of overflowing chips.

"Ah, this is great! Watching the Olympics with my darling little brother!" The older blond commented, making a kissy face at Canada and pinched his cheek to which the Canadian scowled at. He swatted Alfred's hand away from his face, and focused his eyes back onto the television screen, obviously intent on watching the ice skating competition that was being displayed on TV. America –though looking fallenchested- persisted.

"Maaaatty~" He sang airily, wrapping an arm around said boy's waist. "Gimme a kiss, won't you?"

Canada groaned and wriggled away from his brother's arm, glaring half-heartedly at him. "Not now! The Canadian ice skaters are about to perform." He whispered in his usual soft voice, which made Alfred want to smother him with more brotherly affection. Said American, however, simply pouted and sank into the cushion of his seat; adjusting the bowl of popcorn, America began to shove handful after handful of the buttery snack into his mouth as he sulked. Canada scoffed at his brother's childish display, but quickly turned back to the TV. Since the time he had looked away to scold Alfred, the Canadian ice skating team had taken the lead against the American and Japanese team.

Though Matthew had been raised with better manners, he simply could not hold back an excited, "Yes! Je savais que nous aurions la!"

Also, he had been around Alfred long enough to know to never speak French around him.

"What the hell, Al?!" Matthew hissed as he was pinned against the couch onto his back, a smugly grinning American above him. "I love it when you talk French~"

The next thing Alfred knew, his extra large bowl of popcorn was over his head like an awkward helmet, popcorn strewn _everywhere_; on the couch, in his jacket, covering the floor. And before he could recover, Matthew delivered a sharp kick to his stomach, causing the American to fall backwards onto his butt, thumping his head on the couch's armrest. He groaned pitifully and managed to sit up, giving his brother a "what-the-hell-was-that-for" face as he lifted the popcorn bowl off his head. "My popcorn.."

Matthew could have throttled his brother, right there. _That is_, if he could resist the pathetic pout America gave, staring at his empty bowl.

The fact was, and should always be, Canada was too soft.

Red cheeked, the flustered Canadian grabbed the bowl from his brother's hands and stood up. "I'll be right back.."

America's face lit up. "Hey, thanks Matty! I definitely forgive you!" he beamed, failing to notice Canada roll his eyes and mumble some inappropriate French as he left the room.

Propping his feet up in Matthew's previous spot of the couch, Alfred smirked to himself in victory. He loved his brother, of course, but he loved how he could indirectly ask him to do something for him too. He also loved how wife-like Canada was.


	3. Beauty

**Beauty **(K+)

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"So beautiful," Alfred said quietly as he combed a hand through the smaller young man's rich, wavy blond locks, "So, so beautiful."

Matthew flushed deeply, his cheeks coloring a glorious red. "Not true," he whispered back, embarrassed by his brother's sudden comment. Him beautiful? That was the impossible. If anything, Alfred was the more handsome out of them.

"Of course it is. You're beautiful. Don't you see?" The elder of the brothers directed Matthew's attention to the mirror in front of them, to which he blushed heavily at. His skin was pale and lacking, except for the faint red bumps across his neck and below his jaw, compliments of Alfred. His eyes, though more rounded and larger than his brother's, were a dull violet color and watery, always appearing as though he were on the verge of sobbing every day. His lips were chapped and swollen; and his hair was a complete disheveled mess, his usually curly hair flattened against his head from where he had been rolling around uncomfortably in his sleep. Even his curl –that one hair that always defied him and stuck out from the rest- appeared lazy and lied downwards into his face instead of away from it.

He was a wreck. How could Alfred, his handsome and beloved brother, believe him to be something of beauty?

"Do you see it?" Alfred asked, tilting the younger blond's face back towards his own. Their eyes met for a moment, and Matthew felt for certain that he was drowning in those bright pools of azure that were his brother's eyes. Certainly, Alfred was the more handsome.

Almost regretfully, Matthew shook his head, sinking his teeth into his lower lip; absentmindedly, he thought he tasted blood. Alfred, however, simply smiled. He gently directed his brother's face back to the mirror, and gathered Matthew's hair into a low ponytail, pulling it away from his eyes. Natural ringlets escaped from between his fingers, and layered neatly around Matthew's face to frame it. With his free hand, Alfred carefully pulled his twin's glasses off his face and set them aside.

"Now do you see?" Alfred whispered into Matthew's ear softly, smiling all the while. Though he had to squint a bit to see, the younger brother gasped at what he saw.

Alfred was right. He was.

Matthew rewarded his brother gratefully with a kiss, wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck to pull him closer so that he could reach. Pulling away, he grinned up at Alfred and whispered softly, "Thank you, Al."

Alfred beamed brightly at him. "So beautiful." He repeated once again, before placing a light kiss upon Matthew's forehead.

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_Short and sweet, this one is~ Oh, I put a little Quebec reference in here too. If anyone can point out the line that it's in, a free request for you~ _


	4. Love is War

"_Je t'aime_."

"I know."

"_Je t'adore_."

"I do too."

"_Je ne peux pas vivre sans toi_."

"Me neither."

Circles were drawn repeatively around the small of a back soothingly as the embrace became tighter; neither of them wanted to let go. Never. They hated this; that they had to be apart. On no account did they ever expect this to happen, yet here they were, tired, beaten, and worn from war. The sun had no mercy towards them as it burned harshly upon their backs , and neither did time. It was only a matter of it.

It was only an hour after the British forces had taken the American fort of Niagara, and they had their eyes set on Buffalo. America had been taken by surprise, yes, but not for the same reason as most of his troops was. They had killed 67 of his people, and captured 350, of course. Arthur was known to hold grudges, of course.

But this had gone too far.

His "father" could not, _would not,_ accept the fact that Alfred loved his little brother. Perhaps a little too much than he should have, but how was it his fault he had fallen in love? Matthew was perfect to him. He was smart, patient, understanding, and completely adorable, and although Alfred knew the Canadian wanted to beat his head in sometimes, he also knew Matthew just worried about him.

Why couldn't England understand?

America tenderly patted his brother's back comfortingly, wincing himself as Canada winced at the touch, despite Alfred's careful affection. He knew Matthew's wounds must've hurt like hell; the burning of Newark had affected the both of them; Canada had been, unfortunately, the one to suffer for it.

"Matt, I'm-"

"Sorry, I know." The blond boy smiled weakly, tears stinging his eyes. Cringing, Alfred drew more of his brother into his arms, careful of his wounds. In response, Matthew sighed lightly and rested his sweat drenched forehead against his brother's. This felt nice. To say farewell like this. To see his normally arrogant, "hero" of a brother crying as hard as he was, that America truly regretted this.

Both their heads jolted up at the sound of cannon fire. It had begun. The British were burning the town of Buffalo to the ground. And it sounded almost unreal. Alfred closed his eyes and imagined it to be an approaching thunderstorm instead, though as soon as he did, the image of people screaming and burning in their houses appeared, and made him ill.

"Matthew, please listen, I don't-"

"Adieu, Alfred."

Said American was taken by surprise as a pair of soft lips met his in unbelievable warmth and passion. His brain refused to function properly at the moment, so he watched his little brother walk away in silence as his body sudden felt terribly cold.

And, for the first time in a long time, Alfred cried, tears flowing freely down his face in a mixture of confusion, anger, and loneliness.

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_ This is **supposed **to take place a little after the War of 1812, when the British easily overtook Ft. Niargara and soon after burned the American town of Buffalo and Blade Rock. (obviously). _

_But I FAIL at historical accuracy, so yeah. _


End file.
